Notes of a Time Traveler 7

Sometime in the sixties-

I woke up singing. Not literally, but might as well have been. Meet the Turn-arounds, an all young man acapella group. The year is 1966, it’s a nice breezy July and the Texas sun is beating down with a fever. Us Turn- arounds are having the time of our lives; we’re young, we’re talented, and we sure are cute. The ladies love us, though between me, myself, and I some of these fellas may be a little sexually confused. Though being gay wasn’t as excepted back here as it is in the future. Too bad, these guys deserve to be happy. Their attitude is contagious. I woke up on our tour bus to them singing, like a choir of angels. Soon I realized I was singing too, and boy, did we sound good. Our first concert went buy in a flash. Never in my life did I think singing would make me sweat so much. Girls reaching to touch our hands, the blinding stage light, the voices, the sweat, what fun! We finish close to one in the morning, we may not have many fans, and we may not preform in the biggest stadium. But we, they, sing with enough heart and soul to cure sickness. They’ve sure killed my bad mood.
After the show, we don’t hang with groupies, we don’t intend to give an encore. We have done our part for this crowd, and all head back to the bus. There, we sing more. Even though we are exhausted, and our voices pushed to quite possibly their limit, we sing. It’s our reward for tonight, for another job well done. On the stage we are famous, we’re the Turn-Arounds, and when we step off the stage nothing changes. That’s the thing about happy people, they’re so sure of themselves. It wasn’t until bed that my mind started to wonder. I wonder if Adam and her are having as much fun…I still wonder what happens next.


Notes of a Time Traveler 6

I am a part of the sky, my soul floating without a body around the planet mars, and all I have to do is think. There is this song on earth, life on mars by David Bowie. I heard it, in one life or another. It’s my favorite. I know it’s quite a strange song, but I do feel in some way it relates to me. I am everyone, I am the girl with the mousy hair, her daddy. The friend that’s nowhere to be seen.

I have lived it ten times or more.

I am the sailors fighting in the dance hall, I am the cavemen, the lawman beating up the wrong guy, I am the show.

He is singing me, whether he knows it or not, because I have been everyone and everywhere.

The song title has a question mark at the end. He is asking: is there life on mars?

Yes, there is life on mars. Me.


Notes of a Time Traveler 5

September 11, 2001- earth to present day- earth

The date, I didn’t find out immediately today. It started when I awoke on a plane. Not until the terrorists showed themselves as the true wolves hiding beneath their faux skin suites, did I truly realize. It helped that I spoke their language, heard the words they shared to each other. Today, I wasn’t immobile, wasn’t even shocked frankly. I had been in worse situations. This was faster than I thought it’d be. Soon, around me, heroes arose. The occupants around me. People who dressed and worked and acted like normal people, who spilled food on themselves and caught diseases. People who – before my travels ever began- I had thought of as cruel. These few, like the terrorist, took off their skin suits as well. But underneath wolves didn’t snarl at me snapping their jagged teeth, and turning their wild eyes. They took their plane back. Fully knowing the fate they had awaiting them regardless. And when that fate arrived, when that plane and the people aboard met the ground in a doomed crash. I was not among them. No, at that moment my soul left the plane. My body met me in my next life of that day. That first one though made me wish I was in control here. That I choose where I traveled. To think I ever believed that this would be a walk in the park.

Notes of a Time Traveler 4

1970’s- Place unknown

From the moment I become this person it hits me in a wave. I forget all about the void, all about Adam, all about……..her. The thirst, the drive. I need to feed on it. Quickly I try to run from this feeling, to hide from it. I’m unsuccessful of course. The monster I’m in wants to kill. So I want to kill. My thirst tonight: blood. I’m me, sure, but I want what they want, I feel what they feel. It sickens me, it does. But right now it also seduces me and gratifies me.

I wait six painfully long hours until it gets dark out. Then I – we – hunt. Hunt to kill. Soon, and I’m not proud of this, I spot a delicious looking victim. But before my body can make true this minds desires I stop myself. I use all the will power I possess to turn theirs. It seems like I’m always running. Now, running from myself.

Notes of a Time Traveler 3


The strange florescent lights flicker above my head. I’ve left the woman behind and am now a man. I’m not used to his slender body and lanky limbs on my soul. He covers me, threatens to drown me in him. But I’m not scared for me, I’m scared for him. Because I can feel his terror, left behind from before I took his place in this body. His mind has left images around in the head I now dwell. Images of things people shouldn’t see. Crazy things, from other lives. Some of them too strange for any boy to take on by himself. From the room décor, the blandness, and the many beds I can tell where we are- an asylum. Nineteen-Twenties possibly Thirties. That’s when nurse enters and removes the straps that tie me to the bed.

“You have a visitor Adam,” she says in a sweet voice, all the while watching my face for any reaction, “It’s your wife Adam.” She continued, but her voice seemed to get darker as she said the last bit. My wife? Suddenly images of my mother cooking my breakfast flash through my heart. Leaving scrapes and holes where they’ve been. The women I love. No, I tell myself, Adam’s wife. The women HE loves. The nurse nods her head at me once with a smile before hurrying out of the room. Then, without a moment in between, enters a women who in any other life would have intimidated me greatly. But in this one, with the memories of Adams swirling around still- I knew not to fear this woman but to instead despise her.

“Darling!” She said in a voice lovely enough to go with her gorgeous face but not with what was underneath. She leaned in, in a way as if to hug us- me, Adam. But stopped just before the contact was made and pulled back wearing a polite smile and sitting on the edge of my bed. “That nurse is a simple tomato isn’t she?” she whispered. Then her smile vanished and she leaned toward me, her mouth right beside my ear. “Let’s blouse, hun.”  She whispered secretly to me “this joint is no fun!” I could hear her smile still by my face. For a second I wonder whether or not this really is Adam’s wife, and why does he tell me to despise her if she wants to get us out of here.

She must read the confusion on our face, “Why so frazzled?” she says with a question in her eyes. “Oh, you must just think I’m all balled up, or on junk, or some such. Seeing as I put you in here and all. Well, baby, they wouldn’t let me see you unless I told em I was your old lady, can you believe it?” She gasped. “But if you want out we better get a wiggle on it. No matter whether you think I’m some gold digger or not.” With that, she stood and walked to the door. Once there she turned and eyed me expectantly.

“Oh futz, fella,” she whined “don’t make your fire bell beg.” Fire bell? What did it mean? Mine, did she mean she was mine?  Quite possibly, my wife? Lover? The thought made my stomach swell. Hearing her talk I couldn’t think of any reason to despise her. I’d learned that love is for the soul only, that her skin did not matter. But, contrary to what Adam may think, her soul shimmered to me. And her appearance was the first thing to appeal to me in quite a while. Intrigued, I got up to follow her. Stopping beside her at the door. Her hand resting on the handle but not moving to open it, her eyes following me.

When I got there she leaned forward and lightly kissed our cheek. “Alright then big six let’s get lost!” Then she opened the door and took our hand in hers in one movement, before leading Adam and me to the exit, dodging – ungracefully- the workers. It’s strange then, how Adam felt still present. I could feel Adam begin to forgive her- just a little.

We are almost to the exit and she looks at me grinning, as we sprint towards the door giggling. Both lost in each other and our child-like fun. Finally we are there and she pushes it open ahead of me. We burst out into the world. But the moment the door opens, the sun brightens, blinds me. And I’m gone. Leaving me wondering: what happens next?

Notes of a Time Traveler 2

January 16, 1956- South

I was just sitting here, when I came to be. Just sitting here, in this chair in this home that is supposedly mine. I feel tired, what did I do? I don’t care. I care for nothing in this life. I smell failure from myself here. I’ve disappointed myself, but have yet to even stand up. But like I said: I don’t care. I feel this person I am, that I’m pretending to be, she’s a southern lady. The sexes don’t matter here. When I switch. I know when I’m in the opposite sex that no one will see me. My body dressed in their clothes. Other times I’m in them, hiding behind their eyes. I don’t know if today I’m to be seen. I don’t want to. Today I’m lazy, tired, depressed. I would like nothing more than to wallow in this until I pass out from exhaustion. I don’t know what this woman has done but I no longer wish to be her. How terrible her life must be when I wish to leave her and return to myself.


Notes of a time traveler

Place Unknown- It has become too difficult to determine what year it is. Or even, really, what space. This is the first time I’ve ever been in a continuum like the one I’ve encountered now. I find myself exceedingly calm in this “world” as you may call it. Yet here is nothing. I am the equivalent of a weightless mass here. Floating in the endless puddles of black that surround and engulf me. Yet -for the first time in ages- I find myself untroubled by the nonthreatening void, and by my lack of present knowledge or even care. It brings about a sort of endless pleasant feeling to me. I could float here forever. I may seem alone in this void. Not even real myself, but I feel that comfortable spirit presence here too. I’ve been witness to this emotion in other times I don’t care to remember now. Yet as I am about to give myself to the nothing. Allow myself freedom of lives apparent end here, in wherever ‘here’ is, was, will be. Yet at that moment, all at once, I am taken from the peace that I know I will never truly have. I can’t tell how long I was there, I can barely remember it. All I know is: I want to go back.